


What Happens In Amsterdam (Some Private Little Memories)

by AnnaFugazzi



Series: Not About Superheroes [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFugazzi/pseuds/AnnaFugazzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had vowed for better or for worse. This wasn't one of the better days. (One-shot sequel to Not About Superheroes).</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens In Amsterdam (Some Private Little Memories)

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this is a one-shot sequel to _Not About Superheroes (A Private Little War)_ , just a "day in the life" kind of thing. Set an indeterminate number of months after the epilogue, shortly after their wedding. I suppose you could read this without having read NASH, which is long like whoa. It's somewhat spoilery, but no more so than the Author's Note ;)
> 
> Unbeta'd, so if you spot anything off, please let me know. Oh, and it's not Winter Soldier compliant.

**1.**

"Sir, I think you may want to see this," said JARVIS, breaking into the companionable silence of the lab. Steve looked up from his sketch, and Tony from his... whatever it was he was doing.

"What is it?" asked Tony.

"There is a video on Youtube, sir, with your name on it."

"The attack last week?"

There was a small hesitation. "It's both of you, sirs."

Tony rolled his eyes. "The picnic we had the other day. I told you somebody would film us." He grinned. "And I told you if you held my hand it would make it onto superhusbands hashtag. It's on superhusbands hashtag, right JARVIS?"

Steve chuckled. "You told me. I also told you I didn't care. Just because I'm not one for getting intimate in bars like some people do today doesn't mean I won't hold hands with my own husband whenever I feel like it. Anyone who doesn't like it doesn't have to look."

Tony smirked at him. "Well, see how much you like it now, Mr. Privacy."

"I may not like it but I'm not gonna _not_ hold hands with you just because I don't like the thought of people taking pictures."

"Sirs, this is a little different," said JARVIS.

"Different how?" Tony glanced over at a white wall. "Here, project it over top."

"You may not want that, sir."

"Why not? JARVIS, go ahead."

"My apologies, sir," said JARVIS, and there was a small pause.

_Oh, Tony. Oh, fuck. Yeah._

Holy shit.

Steve's eyes widened. On the screen, in not very good quality but absolutely recognizable, Tony was bent over a rococo style desk, Steve bent over him and thrusting into him. Their shirts were hanging open, Tony's dress pants shoved down his thighs and Steve's barely unbuckled.

" _God, yeah, harder,_ " Tony was panting, his hands clenched on the table as Steve pressed into him. Steve reached down and grasped Tony, jerking him off in time, and Tony screwed his eyes closed, mouth falling open, elbows braced to take their combined weight, pushing back against him.

" _Jesus, Jesus, oh God,_ " Tony moaned, " _God I have to wind you up like that more often, oh shit, Steve_ ", and Steve's eyes were closed too, driving into him, mouth ghosting along the back of Tony's neck, chest heaving--

" _Tony, come, I wanna feel you, come for me..._ "

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tony blurted, and his hand came up to clutch Steve's. "JARVIS, turn that off!"

Steve was still gaping at where the image of them had been, burned into the back of his retinas.

"Where the hell was that?" asked Tony.

"It was from a server in New Jersey."

"And this is on the internet right now?"

"Yes sir. I believe 515 copies have been downloaded so far."

"Wait, _what_?" said Tony. "How long has this been public?"

"Five hours, sir. It was on a private server, not much publicity, but as soon as it reached 500 copies we were alerted."

"What are the search terms on it?"

Steve was still staring at the space where the images had been as Tony and JARVIS devolved into incomprehensible tech-talk.

Somebody had filmed them. Filmed them at their most intimate, filmed them doing something private and loving and exciting, and turned it into pornography. Cheap entertainment for strangers.

He felt his stomach turn over.

"People have seen that?" he said, his voice faint to his own ears.

"A whole bunch of them," said Tony. He glanced at Steve, his face pale.

"Can we stop it?"

"At this point?" Tony blinked, then stared at him for a moment. "Steve, the internet is forever. Once it's out there, it's out there. I'll shut down the sites - JARVIS, could you please go ahead and do the same thing you did when that video of--"

"Yes sir, the one with the gold lame pants--"

"Yeah, that one." Tony shrugged. "That's about all we can do. Sorry, babe." He got up and pressed a quick kiss to Steve's forehead. "I know, it's kinda creepy, but just think of it the same way you think of people who call you a faggot. The people who matter would never even think of downloading that thing, and the ones who would, don't matter." He paused and gave him a small smile. "Besides, you have to admit, that was pretty hot. What I saw of it."

Steve swallowed, feeling numb. "You're used to this kind of thing. I'm not."

"Well, don't worry, I'm gonna get a hold of the management from that hotel and rip them a new one," said Tony reassuringly. "I don't mind when I'm in control of this kind of thing or when a pick-up decides to get some fame, but this was secret surveillance." He gave Steve a pat. "I'll go deal with that right now." He got up.

"Tony, don't, it'll--" Steve reached out, but Tony was already in dismissal mode. He leaned down and gave Steve another kiss.

"Don't worry about it babe, I'll have them served with papers by tonight."

"I don't care about--"

"Hey, come on," said Tony with a grin. "This isn't just about me, it's about you too. These people have to understand that they can't do this, making you look bad. Whatever they got paid to do this, I'm gonna ruin them."

"Tony--"

"See you at lunch." Tony strolled out of the lab.

Steve sat, staring at the blank screen.

God. This was so hideous. This was... his skin was crawling, a sick feeling in his stomach, bile rising in his mouth.

He abruptly got up, stumbled to the washroom and fell to his knees, taking deep breaths and struggling to avoid heaving.

People had watched them. Strangers, people who didn't know him at all, had watched him and Tony at their most private, their most vulnerable. Had watched him--

He swallowed, concentrating on not throwing up. This wasn't a physical illness. He wouldn't feel better afterwards. This was in his mind. He could get a grip and not give in to it.

He stayed where he was until the need to heave passed, then rose to his feet, not letting himself think about it.

Would that be all there was to the story? JARVIS had said it was only 515 downloads; would the media hear about it?

He shivered and made his way back to his studio, feeling more violated than he could ever remember feeling.

**2.**

He flipped pages in his sketchbook, searching for inspiration, his mind racing, and abruptly realized he hadn't actually seen any of the sketches he'd just leafed through.

He set it down with a sigh.

"JARVIS."

"Yes sir."

"How long was that video?"

"Twelve minutes long, sir."

Steve swallowed. "What was in it? You don't have to be graphic. Just... a general idea."

"There is a five minute sequence of the encounter on the desk, as well as four minutes in the bedroom, late at night, and another encounter that starts at the desk and moves to the bed, at what appears to be early evening."

Steve groaned. Multiple cameras. Multiple events.

"It had to have been a hotel where we stayed over several days." Long enough to have sex at least three times. "Amsterdam. Last month. We were there for the ceremony thanking us for the Serpent Society fight, and Tony was going to be speaking at the University of Amsterdam physics conference. And I was going to meet Jacques Dernier's daughter."

"That would seem to make sense, sir."

"Why would anybody do that?"

"There are any number of people who might want to embarrass Sir. It is unlikely you would have been a target. Although there might have been financial incentive from the tabloids."

Steve shook his head and took out his paints. He could paint, he could get his mind off it, it didn't matter.

He wanted Tony there. He wanted to hold on to Tony, talk to him about everything and nothing - maybe touch him, drive out the ugliness of their intimate moments being stolen like that and make them about themselves again.

He took out his pen and ink, and leafed through his sketchbook.

There was one that he'd started after Amsterdam, actually. He remembered glancing over at Tony kneeling over him, thinking he made a hell of a pretty picture, gasping it out, saying something about drawing him. Tony had laughed as well as he could considering what he was doing, and the vibrations from his mouth had nearly driven Steve out of his mind.

He flipped through, finding the sketch. There was Tony, smirking up at him, tongue out, licking Steve. Left hand, wedding band visible, holding Steve's hip down, hair tousled from Steve's fingers... it was probably one of the more erotic things Steve had ever sketched.

He took out his pen, idly started to fill in the sketch, then bit his lip. He'd thought of surprising Tony with it, as Tony was always amused and more than a little turned on whenever Steve did anything mildly risqué. Funny, Tony had had so much more sexual experience than Steve, and yet Steve could still surprise him, still keep his interest. Some days it was a little overwhelming, to be honest, being the focus of that interest.

Take Amsterdam, that first night. They'd barely had time to land and check in at the hotel before they were whisked off to a gala honoring the Amsterdam first responders and them, as representatives of the Avengers. The reception hall, tastefully decorated, a buffet that had every kind of food imaginable, including some Dutch food Steve remembered from the War, and speeches that were so boring Steve wanted to lie down and nap in front of everyone. Endless rounds of congratulations from people they didn't know. During a brief respite from the glad-handing, Tony had leaned over and whispered some comment about a good-looking young woman. Then a good-looking man.

"Wouldn't you like to see what's under that?" he'd murmured sotto voce. "Fireman's dress uniforms are such a turn on."

"No, Tony," Steve had said, smiling politely at a server with a tray of kruidnoten.

"I know, I know, we're respectable married men and all, but... wouldn't you like to know?"

"No."

"I would. Married, not dead." Tony had given him a smirk. "In the name of marital-ness, though, I know what I'd like to do even more than ogle the fireman, and that's get the hell out of here with my husband and--"

"No. We have to stay till the end. They're grateful to us."

"So in gratitude they're going to bore us to death?"

"Behave," Steve said, hiding a smile.

"Besides, I wonder how many of them are looking to see if we're gonna kissy-face."

"Tony."

"I'd like to. Do more than kissy-face, though."

"I know."

"I wanna get back to our hotel."

Steve swallowed. "So do I."

"And get you out of that suit."

"Me too."

"I'd love to peel it off you right now. You know, even more than a uniform kink, I have a hell of a suit kink."

Steve bit his lip.

"I wanna push it off your shoulders, and--"

"Tony."

"Oh dear," said Tony, glancing down and back up quickly. "Are you having a little problem?"

"Tony!"

"I'm so sorry. Except for the part where I'm not."

"I didn't think you were."

"Hey, nobody would blame us. Technically we're still on our honeymoon."

"No, we're not."

"We are. Honeymoon refers to the month after your wedding, and it's still only three weeks in." He'd leaned in, smirked. "As if I could forget, after what you made me do in a church." He'd looked over his shoulder and smiled brilliantly, and Steve turned to see an elderly Dutch woman blinking at them.

"What did he make you do in a church?" she'd asked, the soft Dutch 'v' for 'w' and rasp on her 'r' reminding Steve of wartime. Vaguely he realized she probably hadn't even been alive during the War.

"Get married," Steve said hastily. "We uh, got married in a church."

"That's what she thought you meant," said Tony. "What did you think I meant, Steve?"

Steve suppressed the urge to step on his husband's foot. Hard.

"Ah yes, congratulations," said the elderly woman. "Mr. Stark, I wanted to thank you for your help with the canal reparation," she said, continuing without missing a beat. "My family's home was near where you lifted those fallen blocks of concrete after the battle was over."

"You're very welcome," he'd said. And she'd sailed off, with a small smirk playing about her lips and another congratulations on their marriage.

"Tony..." Steve had said weakly.

"Hey, you don't want me to keep teasing you, how about we get out early." Steve gave him an unamused look. "Honeybun--"

"Don't call me that--"

"Baby doll--"

"Oh God that's worse--"

"Light of my life, we just got married. We are so very new to our now sanctified carnal love for one another." Steve nearly snorted the very expensive whiskey out his nose, and Tony grinned at him unrepentantly. "Come on, Steve. Let's go make some memories."

And they had, after leaving the party a lot earlier than he'd intended to. He remembered getting back home. He remembered being so hard he hurt, Tony having keyed him up so much that it took all his self-control to not shove him into a random hotel alcove and have his way with him.

They'd finally reached their suite and he'd slammed the door shut, grasping Tony's tie and pulling him close and Tony practically climbed him, mouth eager and eyes laughing, and they'd panted together and barely taken any of their clothes off before Tony swept papers off the hotel room desk and braced himself against it, giving Steve a heated look over his shoulder and letting him do only the most minimal prep before slamming his hand on the desk and telling him to get a fucking move on.

"Come on, Steve," he smirked, "Let's sanctify the hell outta this desk." And Steve had thrust home, and it was primal and urgent and somehow still so damn sweet. Tony gasping below him, encouraging him, pushing back on him, baring the back of his neck to Steve's lips and teeth and groaning in pleasure...

He stared down at the sketch. And now those memories were being shared with... "JARVIS, how many people have downloaded that video?" Steve asked.

"I was able to shut down the site after 578, sir," said JARVIS. "But no doubt some of the people who downloaded have already passed it on to others."

God damn it. Steve felt like putting his fist through the wall. And the worst of it was, Tony wouldn't even see what was wrong.

He looked over at their wedding portrait. They'd had a private ceremony, at a small chapel - in Brooklyn, not Las Vegas - with only their closest friends in attendance. He'd worn his military uniform, Tony a dark business suit - no Iron Man armor or veil - and allowed one photo out to the press. Happiest day of his life. And he was still happy... but some days were harder than others.

He touched his wedding ring. They worked well together; they really did. This was just... they were such different people. Sometimes the gaps in age and background and attitude between them were so difficult to bridge. 

He suddenly remembered Clint remarking at one point that in a way he envied them - and all same-sex couples, really, because "At least if I was with a guy I'd understand the person I was fucking!"

But it just wasn't that simple. And days like today...

No. He had to stop thinking about this. He picked up a paintbrush and started to paint.

**3.**

"Steve?"

"Clint?" Steve put down the paintbrush about an hour or so later. He listened as Clint made his way down the hall, talking as he went.

"Hey, dude, listen, I think you oughta know there's this video that - whoa." Clint stopped at the doorway, his eyes widening. Steve probably looked rather murderous. "Uh, OK. You've heard."

"It's fine," said Steve. He schooled his features into equanimity.

"Fine? I expected that from Tony, but... you're really OK with it?" He gave Steve a skeptical look. Steve projected indifference as hard as he could. Clint cleared his throat. "Well, OK, good for you, man, Tony's rubbed off on you." He paused. "Did he do that in the video too?"

Steve swallowed.

"Yeah, no, you're not that OK." Clint sighed, dropping down into the chair next to him. "You know it's just the celebrity bullshit."

"Easy for you to say."

"What's Tony think?"

Steve pressed his lips together briefly. "He's going to sue the hotel. But it's too late to stop the video. And the internet is forever."

"That it is," Clint agreed. "Remember when my uniform got dissolved and my bare ass was all over the damn place?"

Yeah. Steve remembered. He also remembered Clint had found it hilarious, and collected both the stills that had been taken of him and the artistic renditions made by fans. He suspected the hashtag hawkweyesass had been invented by him.

Clint gave him a sympathetic pat. "Anyway, I came to get you for our meeting, in case you didn't get the email this morning. Hill has some info on AIM."

"Yeah. Let me clean up in here." He started wiping down the brushes.

"Steve... anything I can do?" Clint asked, his hand on the doorknob.

Steve shook his head, and Clint left.

No, there wasn't anything anyone could do. Nobody would even understand how he felt. The one person who was there, the one person who might... didn't really care about this kind of thing anyway.

Damn it. He remembered hearing that Tony had a wild sex life when he'd first come into contact with him, remembered finding out that people had seen videos of him - that thousands of people had watched him, as if he was a porn star, and it didn't bother him at all. He'd even seemed to revel in it. It had been one of the many things Steve had found repellent about him when they'd first met. How the man could treat intimacy so casually, like an amusing past-time...

Steve brought himself up short. What he and Tony had was different, and he knew that. It was just hard to keep that in mind right now. And it probably didn't show up at all in the damn videos; the videos would show nothing but... what was it Tony had called it once? Sport-fucking?

He methodically put the brushes away and prepared to head to the conference room. Those damn videos probably showed nothing of what sex meant to them. Which was a good thing. Bad enough that strangers were using them to get off; Steve had no desire for them to use them to peer into his soul. From what he remembered, the images were grainy enough that that shouldn't be a problem.

Unless somebody got clever with image enhancements...

That second time in Amsterdam... the second time had been after that godawful nightmare he'd had. He'd dreamt of icy water closing over him, his lungs freezing from the inside, fighting to hold his breath as his limbs froze, desperately trying to survive, knowing it was hopeless, aching with cold - and with a sense of doom, knowing that waking up would be in some ways even worse, fighting for breath, his heart pounding as he tried desperately to _not_ die this time, because he couldn't go through it again, couldn't wake up in an alien, frightening world, alone and grieving everyone he'd ever known - and then he'd woken up next to Tony.

Steve shuddered at the memory as he got into the elevator. It was probably being in Amsterdam that had done it, with all its reminders of the War.

He'd woken up and told himself he was all right, as his lungs heaved for air. He was all right. Tony was next to him, and yes waking up in this century had been godawful, one of the worst times he could remember, soul-crushing, but he'd come out the other side. He'd rolled over and clung to Tony desperately, reminding himself that he wasn't adrift any more, he wasn't alone any more, he had Tony and he was part of this world and he belonged...

He remembered Tony rolling over in his sleep and nuzzling close without waking. Remembered shaking silently for an agonizing minute before tugging Tony awake.

"Wha?"

"Sorry," he's whispered. "Nightmare."

"Mm." Tony had given him a sleepy smile. "Need a distraction?"

"Yeah, please," he'd gulped, still spooked. Funny how often each of them did this for the other. Both suffered from sleep troubles, both had nightmares and insomnia, and they'd both found sex to be marvelously distracting.

And Tony had, half-conscious, smiled at him so sweetly it made Steve's throat ache, and moved down his body. Pulled the sheet down, exposing Steve to the cool air of the hotel room, sweat drying on him.

He was so cold. Still so adrift in terror and grief. But Tony had gently taken him into his mouth, teased him into hardness, erasing his pain and fear and loneliness the way he'd done so many months ago. Reminding him that he was alive, he was loved, he was _alive_ , his old friends might be gone but while there was love and sex and devotion there was still life and hope--

He'd glanced down at Tony at one point and found him gazing up at Steve, gently holding his hips down, and the thought had passed through his overwhelmed mind that god damn, Tony was the most fucking beautiful thing he'd ever seen, that he'd love to paint him like this. He'd gasped something like that and Tony had laughed, and the vibrations had sent a spike of heat down Steve's spine and he gasped and threw back his head and swore, coming so hard down Tony's throat that he almost blacked out.

Steve adjusted himself slightly and glanced at the floor indicators. Almost at the conference room, and he forced the memory from his consciousness, willing away the heat that had begun to tingle through him.

**4.**

He stopped short as he entered the conference room and the others looked up from a Starkpad in front of Bruce.

"What's going on?" he asked, taking in Bruce's slight flush and Natasha's angry scowl.

"You're not gonna like this," said Bruce. Natasha made a protesting noise in her throat and Bruce shrugged. "You know he's going to find out," he said. He moved the pad to face Steve. "We didn't read much of it."

"What is it?"

"The video has gone viral," said Natasha heavily, then put up a hand. "Or rather, news about has. Not everyone can get it. Tony's server shutdowns have been pretty thorough, so people are talking about it but apparently it's hard to find."

"They're talking about it?" said Steve, sitting down, feeling sick again. He pulled the pad towards him.

 _So, what have we learned?_ the words swam before him - some site named thedirtydirt.com. _A hell of a lot, munchkins. That Serum does seem to have worked some impressive magic on the good Captain's endowments. Hey he went from 5'4" to 6'2"; wonder if his dick went through the same transformation? Let's see, what else... Tony Stark swallows, the little minx, but we didn't get to see if the good Captain does or not. He's not above trading bjs for his hubby's sobriety though - that's an interesting one, we've long suspected that Iron Man had a bit of a monkey on his back, but it looks like he's maybe trading addiction to alcohol for addiction to getting his cock sucked by Captain America. I'm probably not the only straight man saying this but I give the man a high five on that._

_Uh, what else... Cap likes doggy-style and a little rough-and-ready when pitching, sweet and missionary when catching. Iron Man's a hell of a moaner and Captain Tightass - and we can say now that this is not just a random nickname - curses like a sailor on leave, especially when he's getting his own dick sucked._

_What else have we learned? Well, we've learned that it's harder to get a hold of this video than it is to keep anyone decent once Tony Stark gets his hands on them! We've heard of_ fifteen _sites so far that have been abruptly shut down, and we're not too sure how that's going on. Tony's never cared who sees him in the altogether, so I'm guessing someone at Stark Industries decided to sic the geeks and legal department on the internet in order to preserve his decorum now that he's a married man - and a_ very _happily married one, if the video is anything to go by--_

Steve shoved the pad away, feeling sick.

"It's just celebrity culture, Steve," said Natasha. "It'll blow over next week."

"The videos won't, though," said Steve, his teeth gritted and unable to look at his teammates. There was an awkward silence, broken by the door opening as Tony breezed in.

"I didn't miss anything, did I?" he said, dropping a quick kiss on top of Steve's head and plopping into the chair next to him, feet going up on the table and Starkpad immediately before his eyes. "Brucey, ten-word Cliff's Notes version?"

Bruce cleared his throat. "We hadn't actually begun the meeting yet. We're waiting for Hill."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh joy, does Little Miss Sunshine have triplicate forms for us to sign?" His face brightened and he looked up from his pad. "Because if that's the case, I'm pretty sure Steve can sign for me now--"

"No such luck, Iron Man," said Hill, coming into the room. "I called the meeting because there's some new intelligence about possible AIM activity in Albuquerque." She gave him a smirk as he blew out his breath and settled back down.

"Oh goody, AIM," he muttered. "My favorite Pinky and the Brain wannabes."

They settled and Steve focussed on Hill's steady voice as she led them through gathered intelligence on AIM's newest shenanigans. The videos didn't matter. The fact that people were out there watching him having sex - right now - didn't matter. He had a purpose, this was what was important, the celebrity thing was a side effect, and--

"Stark, are we boring you?" Hill's acid voice cut through.

"Sorry?"

"Would you care to share with the class?" she indicated his Starkpad.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Tony replied, not taking his eyes off his Starkpad. "Heightened radioactive readings in three places, misplaced equipment at a nuclear lab in Pasadena, intercepted emails between two AIM-suspected scientists, odd tinge to the water reported and then suddenly fixed in Albuquerque. Got it." He ran his finger across his screen and waved a hand at Hill. "Carry on, it's all fascinating."

Steve suppressed a smile. Hill looked remarkably similar to how Sister Beatrice had always looked when Bucky spent Latin class reading comics on his lap and still managed to answer every question she posed. He turned his attention back to her as she continued their briefing.

Finally it was over, and they were getting ready to go, Natasha and Clint with tactics to consider, Bruce to analyze some of the readings Hill had given him. Steve picked up his own briefing materials, and Hill cleared her throat.

"Captain," she said. "There's one more thing. Iron Man, this concerns you too. It concerns all of the team, actually." She paused, and for the first time since he'd met her, Steve could feel her unease. "About this morning's news." She looked around and Steve felt his stomach flip over again. No. No no no no... "I assume you've all heard about the video that's currently circulating about two of your teammates?"

Steve felt his face heat crimson. No, not in a team meeting, this was...

"Ooh, the honeymoon video," Tony chuckled. "Don't tell me. You want a signed copy?"

Hill pressed her lips together and gave him a quelling stare. "I don't find it particularly funny," she said. "Neither does Director Fury."

"Oh come on, live a little," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Do you know how many times I've been--"

"Thirteen, by last count," said Hill repressively. "Trust me, nobody cares about _you_. But we were hoping that now that you're part of a team you'd take this a little more seriously--"

"Excuse me?" Tony's mocking tone dropped abruptly. He sat up, leaning forward. "This was _not_ our fault," he spat angrily. "Some fucking piece of shit filmed us without--"

Hill put up her hands hastily. "No, of course you didn't do anything wrong," she said. " _Nobody_ is saying that, trust me - nobody blames either of you for this." She met Steve's eyes seriously. "This isn't about blame. It's about damage control."

Steve put out a hand and gently touched Tony's shoulder.

Tony sank down, mollified. "All right, fine," he muttered. He took a breath, settling himself, and shrugged. "I don't really see what you can do. I've gone through this before - just ignore it, make a few jokes if it comes up, wait for some reality show star to get a crotchshot, easy breezy."

"That may have been the case when you were just the playboy head of Stark Industries," said Natasha. "But this is about Steve too. And Captain America can't just laugh it off or post a tweet about the Avengers Marketing Department making repeat performances available on pay-per-view."

Tony chuckled. "I did try that last time, didn't I? Hey, SI stocks did a bit of a jump that week; we never did figure out if it was because of the video." He waved a hand at Hill. "OK, fine, I'll be good, no tweeting about it."

"We may want to put out a press release," said Hill, and the last time Steve recalled his face feeling this burning hot had been the last time he'd had a near-fatal fever.

Tony shook his head. "I wouldn't," he said. "Steve?"

Steve swallowed. "I don't know," he said miserably. "Would it help?"

"It might not," said Hill. "We're open to suggestions."

Tony shook his head. "I suggest you talk to SI PR then," he said, his eyes straying back to his Starkpad again, clearly losing interest in the conversation. "They've had plenty of practice. Contact us if you come up with anything." He stood up. "Anything else?"

Hill shook her head.

"OK, it's been a slice," said Tony, and hurried off, mind already on his work and the rest of them a million miles away. Steve gazed after him.

"Captain?" Hill said quietly.

Steve started. "Yes?"

"Is there anything..." again she seemed uncomfortable, and Steve waited for her to finish. She dropped her gaze. "I'll let you know what we come up with after we talk to PR," she said, and left.

There was a small silence.

"Steve?" Bruce said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Dude, are you OK?" asked Clint. Steve nodded.

"Has Tony been like that about this the entire time?" asked Natasha.

"Like what?"

"Like it's not a big deal," said Bruce, at the same time as Clint said, "Like an insensitive dickhead."

"Clint," said Natasha repressively.

"It's an accurate description," said Bruce. "Is he aware that this actually isn't a laughing matter?"

Steve swallowed. "There's nothing he can do," he finally said, unable to think of any way to defend Tony's attitude. Not that there was anything to defend. Not that there was any reason for him to feel abandoned and pissed off. There wasn't.

"He could maybe _not_ laugh it off, seeing as how you're not laughing," said Clint bluntly.

"He shut down the site," said Steve. "And the hotel where it was filmed is going to be sued."

"I'm sure that'll be enough," said Bruce.

"Are you kidding?" said Clint.

"Clint, I think Bruce is trying to be comforting," said Natasha.

"Well don't bother," said Steve. "I know how the internet works. I know it's out there, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"There's something _he_ could do about it, though," said Clint.

"It's not a big deal," said Steve. "He's got work to do."

"He's the _boss_. He doesn't have to work on it today."

Steve shrugged. "When inspiration strikes."

"Douchebag."

"Clint," said Natasha again. She gave Steve a level look. "It's OK to be bothered by this, you know. Both by the video and by Tony's..."

"Assholery," said Clint.

"I was going to say flippant attitude."

"Call him on this bullshit, dude," said Clint, ignoring Natasha.

"Since when are you a marriage expert, Clint?" she said pointedly.

"I _was_ married," Clint shot back. "And I know what doesn't work. Don't let him be a dick, Steve." He stood up. "Listen, you wanna go spar or something?"

Steve shook his head. "You two need to go over the tactics Hill gave you. We'll be fine."

"You sure?" asked Bruce.

"I'm sure." Steve waited till they were gone, then put his head in his hands.

No, he wasn't sure. Tony had been so...

Damn it.

Strangers were watching their intimate moments. Strangers were watching what Steve and Tony had fought for, as cheap porn. It had cost him so much, to convince himself there was nothing wrong with him - to _not_ feel dirty and sinful being with a man, to accept his sexuality as part of himself. It had taken so much time and effort, he'd put himself and Tony through so much, it had been so painful, their love had been so hard-won... and now it was a source of titillation and amusement for faceless consumers.

Fuck.

He took out his briefing notes, scrolling through the evidence Hill had given them, hoping to settle his mind. But the routine of trying to mix and match sightings and emails and suspicions to solid ideas just wasn't holding his attention, and he kept coming back to that damn video, the thought of his teammates talking about him and Tony, Hill and SI Public Relations thinking up of a press release, the flurry of comments there had to be all over the internet now - _Tony Stark swallows, the little minx, but we didn't get see if the Captain does or not_

Steve shoved the Starkpad away and stood up.

Maybe he should go spar.

Maybe he should go throw up.

Maybe he should go see Tony.

He stood and headed for the lab.

**5.**

"Tony?" He peered in, Black Sabbath assaulting him like a wall of noise. He spotted Tony and headed towards him, waving at JARVIS to bring down the volume slightly.

Tony glanced up. "Steve. What's up?"

Steve hesitated. "How... how are you?"

Tony blinked. "Uh. Kinda busy."

"What are you doing?"

"It's a little technical."

"Try me."

"It has to do with electricity," Tony said with a small smile. Steve chuckled. "Seriously, hon, it would take forever to explain. I doubt you'd find it interesting."

Steve nodded. Tony waited a moment. "Steve?"

Steve took a deep breath. "About that video."

Tony groaned. "Oh damn, you're not still upset about that, are you? It's nothing, come on. I shut down the server, SI Legal is tracking down the assholes who filmed us and are gonna bury them in a lawsuit, there's nothing more to be done. Just forget about it."

Steve stared at him. "It doesn't bother you?"

Tony smirked. "Consider it a compliment. I always have. Hey, we're two hot guys, going at it - that's prime masturbatory material right there, for all the fangirls and boys. They were already doing photomanips; this is real." He gave Steve's arm a pat. "This isn't my first rodeo; you get used to it."

Steve pressed his lips together, tamping down anger. "I know that," he said. "But it's mine. And I want it to be my last."

Tony gave him a distracted smile. "Don't worry about it. SI Legal will take them for everything they've got, we'll have anti-surveillance stuff next time we stay at a hotel, and we'll keep the geeks on the lookout for more copies of that video." He gave Steve a quick peck on the cheek and turned back to his work.

 _I'm not one of your hookups,_ Steve wanted to protest. _I'm not a meaningless roll between the sheets. I'm not some floozy whose greatest claim to fame is going to be fucking Iron Man. This is_ important _to me, damn it..._

He held his tongue. Right now, if he said any of that, they'd probably end up fighting over it. And it wasn't Tony he was angry at; it was the slimy piece of shit who'd filmed them, and the assholes who'd uploaded the video, and the faceless 500+ perverts who'd downloaded it.

God, they were so damn different. This honestly didn't bother Tony, and it left Steve feeling dirty in so many ways...

No, _not_ dirty. He hadn't done anything wrong. Those nights in Amsterdam had been wonderful, and there was no reason to feel differently about them just because of other people's malicious actions.

But people were looking at them, and laughing, and taking stills from the videos, and discussing them...

And Tony didn't give a shit.

He nodded stiffly. "OK. I'll see you later." He turned to leave.

"Steve? You're OK, right?" asked Tony uncertainly.

"Yeah," Steve bit out, and walked out the door.

**6.**

No, he was not OK.

Looking over AIM was not going to help, either, he realized as he put down Hill's report. Thinking about AIM was only going to piss him off. Piss him off at the videos, at the downloaders, at Hill, at Clint for his blunt appraisal of the situation, at Tony--

A drink - one that had _any_ effect whatsoever - would be really nice right about now. Not to get drunk, but just to feel less pissed off.

Tony hadn't been drinking, that last night in Amsterdam, he suddenly remembered. They'd gone to another formal function, stayed an hour, then gone to dinner together and Tony had kept to soda water and juice.

They'd returned to the hotel after dinner and Tony had gone to check his email.

"Pepper's pleased," he said. "Looks like I haven't pissed anybody off the whole trip. Go me."

"I'm pleased too," said Steve, taking off his tie. He'd smirked at Tony. "And I believe I owe you something."

Tony had sat back in the hotel chair, his lips twitching in amusement, his eyes still on the Starkpad. He'd spread his legs slightly. "Oh? What might that be?" Steve snorted and knelt between his legs, gently nudging them apart. "You'll have to remind me."

"Our deal."

"Oh that. I'd forgotten."

"Bullshit. No man has ever forgotten a promised blow job in the history of men," said Steve, unbuttoning Tony's pants, and Tony had shut down the Starkpad and leaned his head back against the seat, laughing.

"Captain America, do you kiss your husband with that mouth?"

"I do a lot more than that," Steve had said, and freed Tony from his underwear. He'd nuzzled against him and then taken Tony into his mouth, smiling at Tony's exhale, and proceeded to take him apart bit by bit.

"Jesus, if this is always the prize for not drinking I'm gonna go stone cold sober for life..." Tony had gasped at one point. "The things you do with that tongue..."

Steve had laughed, focussing on Tony's pleasure, on the hitch in his breath and his sweet moans, the trembling of Tony's legs, his fingers stroking through Steve's hair unsteadily...

"No, hang on, don't," Tony gasped suddenly as Steve unbuckled his own belt and slipped a hand inside to relieve the pressure. "I don't - not like this." He pulled back slightly and Steve let him go. "Bed?"

Steve had smiled and let Tony pull him to his feet and they headed for the bed, falling down on it together and removing their clothes, and it had been slow and tender and perfect. Tony's wiry weight on Steve's body, his lips and hands caressing everywhere, finally sinking deep into Steve with a sigh. Holding Steve's hands as they moved together, gasping out his name as they came. Drifting off to sleep holding Tony close, pressing a sleepy kiss to the back of Tony's neck as Tony's breath evened out.

Briefly he wondered where the video cut off for that particular night, and shuddered in disgust.

He barely restrained himself from punching the wall. No. He didn't need to add a temper tantrum resulting in destruction of property to the list of things he felt like crap about today.

"JARVIS?" he called out.

"Yes sir?"

"Can you ask if Clint or Natasha are free for a sparring session?" He paused. "Or maybe both of them?"

"Certainly, sir," said JARVIS.

**7.**

Two hours later, feeling sweaty and aching, but at least no longer wanting to strangle anybody or destroy a building, he waved at Natasha and Clint and headed for the change room shower. He turned on the water and stepped in, letting the water wash away sweat, tension, frustration...

He'd really needed that sparring session. Yes, it would've been nicer if he could have gotten the comfort he needed from Tony, if Tony had been able to show even an ounce of consideration for how fucking sick Steve felt about their private life becoming public. But this was what marriage was all about: accepting the good with the bad. Tony was a lot of good things. Loyal, self-sacrificing, brilliant, warm, sexy... but he wasn't perfect. Understanding another person's point of view was just not his thing. He was practically allergic to seriousness. Discretion and desire for privacy were just not in his lexicon.

And Steve knew that. He'd known that when they'd met, he'd known that when they'd gotten together, and he'd known that when they'd taken their vows. In a church, despite Tony's complete indifference to religion and disdain for tradition, because Tony knew how much church meant to Steve and contrary to what everyone else thought, he was capable of compromise and selflessness.

Steve emerged from the shower feeling somewhat calmer and went to get his clothes.

"Steve." Bruce was at a bench, changing into yoga clothes. He glanced at Steve's face. "You OK?"

"Sure, yeah," said Steve. "Did you look over those radiation readings?"

Bruce shrugged. "Can't see any patterns yet. Probably just need time to percolate." He paused. "Have you, um, been on the internet?"

Steve gave him a dark look. "Don't tell me there's more."

"Uh, no." Bruce looked hesitant. "Have you seen Tony?"

"He's working."

"On what?"

Steve shrugged. "Said I wouldn't understand it. You probably can." Bruce narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips slightly. "Why?"

"Uh. Something's happened with the videos."

Steve dropped his towel and started getting dressed, not looking at Bruce and holding on to his hard-won distance from his anger and sense of violation. "Screen captures trending now? Animated gifs taking over the Avengers website?"

"No." Bruce regarded him seriously. "Uh. They're disappearing."

"What?"

**8.**

Steve stepped through the door to Tony's lab and stopped, letting the dulcet tones of Alice Cooper's "[Black Widow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEMlLSXXwVo)" wash over him as he observed Tony.

There he was, busily manipulating a blue hologram of a design of a pair of... were those wings? Who could really tell.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" Tony gave him a quick distracted smile, turning back to his design.

"Bruce just came to see me. Seems there's something going on with the video."

"I won't do talk shows," Tony said automatically, not taking his eyes off the blue shape hovering over him.

"Nobody's asking you to," Steve chuckled. "He says the video's disappearing off the internet."

"Yeah, I told JARVIS to get on that. The SI geek squad, too."

"No, it's gone further than that. People were sharing it individually, off the major sites. But in the last hour a lot of people that downloaded it have lost everything on their computers. Entire hard drive wiped out. All that's left are screen shots of Rush Limbaugh making a pig face." Tony glanced at him. "Sometimes it's My Little Pony or the cast of Duck Dynasty. It also blasts really loud polka music that shatters the speakers and sends out e-mails to the receiver's entire email list saying, 'I downloaded a private video because I'm a humongous pervert.'"

"Really?"

"Tony." Steve waited until Tony looked at him. "People have lost a lot of important material."

"That's gotta be rough," Tony commented.

"It's also pretty humiliating to a lot of them."

"I bet."

"It seems somebody wrote a virus that targets the images and sounds from the video and searches them out on a hard drive before doing its thing."

"Clever."

"Yes. Very. It's gotten past a few impressive firewalls."

"Huh."

"Any idea what might have happened?"

"Well, nobody's ever done anything like that for me," said Tony, "so I would guess it was written by someone who didn't like the idea of a national icon being turned into a porn star against his will. You know you've got some pretty rabid fans." He turned back to his hologram, then paused. "Ah, shit. You know this is gonna get blamed on me, for exposing you to this kind of crap. I can just hear the legal eagles wetting themselves to see if they can somehow blame destruction of company data on Stark Industries."

"Some of the people targeted have already said that they didn't actually download the video."

"No kidding." Tony thought for a minute, then swept a hand at the hologram, putting it away. He sighed and looked at Steve. "I'm gonna have to go talk to our own legal eagles. Maybe work with the geek squad to see about creating a program that searches out company data and restores it on the affected hard drives... no, that'll have them thinking I'm doing a clever form of industrial espionage... we'll need to find a neutral third party that can offer the wipe-and-recover services..." he trailed off, muttering to himself, and stood up. He gave Steve a kiss. "I'll probably be late for dinner," he said apologetically, and Steve blinked.

"Tony--"

"Sorry, I'm gonna have to talk to the geek squad personally," said Tony, and headed out, already taking out his Starkpad to talk to JARVIS, no doubt already coordinating with the people who ran SI's online services.

**9.**

"So where's your brilliant asshole of a husband?" was Clint's greeting as he entered their dining room.

"Helping Pepper with a press release about the cure to the virus," said Steve, setting the cutlery.

"Ooh, fancy," said Clint, looking over the table. He sighed. "Why doesn't anybody ever make me home-made steak and baked potatoes?" He paused. "No wine?"

Steve shook his head, his face warming a bit. That whole "no drinks equals a blow job" deal was supposed to be his and Tony's. Nobody else's business. Tony struggled to not let his fondness for alcohol get out of hand, and that deal had been Steve's way of helping. Now it was public knowledge, and every time Tony was seen in public without a drink in his hand Steve just knew he'd have the crawling suspicion that other people were secretly smirking and assuming they knew what was going to happen in their bedroom that night.

What the hell. There was nothing he could do about it.

"So... press release, is it?" Clint commented. "He's had a busy day."

"Yeah."

"I heard nobody can find a copy of that video any more. Or even any stills from it."

"Is that right."

"Nobody's going to admit to owning it, either," said Clint. "It's like carrying the plague; everybody's terrified that if you've seen it, your hard drive or cloud or whatever might still have a version of it and if they come into contact with it their data will get wiped out. That's all the press can talk about now - the effects of the virus, the SI virus protection... nobody's talking about the video itself any more."

"That's interesting."

Clint nodded. "Pretty brilliant virus. A little evil, but brilliant."

"It is," Steve agreed.

"I mean, there's no telling how many people had no idea that somebody using their computer was going to download that thing. I can imagine there's probably a few poor stupid teenagers getting raked over the coals by their parents tonight."

Steve nodded.

"Any idea who wrote the thing?"

Steve met Clint's eyes. "Nope."

Clint grinned. "You gonna ask?"

"Nope."

"Hi Clint - what's this?" Tony stopped at the door of the dining room, his eyes widening slightly at the table.

Clint gave him a smile. "You've had a hard day, so Steve's gone wifey on you. He's like an inch away from taking off your shoes and bringing you your newspaper and slippers."

Steve grinned and tossed a napkin at Clint. "Clint, you have your own apartment. Use it."

Clint backed away, laughing. "Point taken. Well, I'm gonna go bug Nat. See you two tomorrow." He left the dining room, giving Tony a friendly pat on the shoulder on the way out.

"Seriously, what is this?" asked Tony, eyeing the table. "What's the occasion?"

"It's been a long day," said Steve. "You had to do double duty on fighting that virus and doing the press release."

Tony pressed his lips together, then said awkwardly, "Look, you... all of this, it's my fault." He looked away from Steve and swallowed hard. "I never really... I told you, when we got together. I don't have a good record with -- I knew some of my rep would rub off on you. It's always been funny to me, before. I - I never meant for--"

Steve stopped him with a kiss. "It's done. It's over. I told you, I knew what I was getting in to." He kissed Tony again, smiling as Tony hesitated, and then leaned into it.

"You sure you're OK?" said Tony, drawing back slightly.

"I'm fine," said Steve. "All of this comes with the territory."

Tony gave him a rueful smile, and Steve felt a rush of love for him - for the brilliant, complicated, sometimes infuriating man he'd chosen to spend his life with.

"And most of the territory's pretty great." Steve kissed him again. "Now, come on. I've made dinner. You've done enough today... let me do something for you now."

Tony smirked. "You know the best way to do something for me doesn't have to do with food--" he broke off and closed his eyes briefly, giving himself a slight shake. "Never mind, forget I said that, after what happened today that's probably the last thing you--"

Steve stopped him again. "We can reheat dinner later." He kissed Tony again, running a hand down his back and to his ass, pulling them flush together, and chuckled as Tony let out a small moan. "Sound good?"

Tony gazed at him, pupils blown wide, and let out a small laugh. "Jesus, Steve, I'll never deserve you in a million years."

Steve shook his head and gently bit Tony's neck, drawing another moan from him. "Come on. Come to bed with me. Let's go make more memories."


End file.
